The Demon Lord

He remembers the day they met again.

Indarauk, Demon Lord of the Shattered Plains, wakes with a steady breath into his pillow. The neon violet glow of his veins pulses as he regains awareness, then fades away. He pushes himself up from the bed, and his blanket slowly slides from his form. His overlong white hair drapes over his lean body. He yawns wide with a mouth full of bear-trap fangs. His eyes water a bit.

He opens his eyes, pitch black pearls with golden scars for pupils, and looks to his lavender-hued body, especially his hands. His fingers fade to blackened points, like a victim of frostbite. His knuckles are plated, giving his hands the appearance of gauntlets. Even after all these years, it was still an adjustment. He’d spent as many years in this life as he had in the previous, but it still felt unnatural to him. This was just how demons looked in this world.

His long, prehensile tail snakes his blanket the rest of the way off of him. The blanket catches on the speared tip. He gives his tail a little whip and flips the blanket off as he sits up, planting his feet on the floor. He locks his fingers together, stretches his arms up past his blade-like horns, and above his head with a little groan as he stands. He sighs and releases the stretch.

He walks to the wardrobe and peers within. There are several robes in dark colors. He dons a simple black robe with a thin gold trim. The robes he had been gifted were much more elaborate and flashy, too gaudy for his tastes. This is nice and subtle. He gives a soft smile and slides on some sandals. There’s a knock at the door followed by a sing-song woman’s voice. “Indi, are you decent?”

He sighs. “Just a moment, Bo.” That girl was strong-willed, too. Indi’s fingers sparked with arcane energy. He presses the arcing hand to his chest and sends a pulse of cleansing energy through himself. Magic was quite handy. His long ears flick as he hears the door click open. He sighs. “Bo..”

Boterea, High Gerratrix of the Shattered Plains, is peeping through the door at him. He hears her mischievous giggle. “Indi…”

Few things in the Shattered Plains tested Indi’s patience as much as Bo. She may be the only living thing bold enough to peep on the demon lord.

She opens the door the rest of the way. He sees her there with much more elaborate red robes and plated boots. Golden thread chains drape between her horns. Her hair was… curled…

“You curled your hair?”

“I’m glad you noticed! One of the humans in the dungeon had hair like this, and I simply adored it.”

Indi frowns. “Dungeon… right.”

“It looks like you’re as ready as you can bother. The Gerratum has called for a council, let’s be sure they don’t plot some coup behind our backs.”

“I’ll be with you shortly.”

She smiles and walks away. Her tail pulls the door closed.

Indi sighs again and steps to the mirror to look himself over.

Demon lord.

Everything about the new world he was born into is… too flashy. Too dramatic. Too contested. Why couldn’t he have been something like a librarian or a barista? Instead, he’s the king of the demon race. He misses his old quiet life.

He did what he could to maintain some semblance of peace in his life, but he’s a king now, a king of monsters, and there are things expected of him. If he doesn’t play the role, there are lasting consequences for not just the demon race, but every living thing they touch.

More than the peace and quiet… he misses Nicole. He misses her wild soul, her bright smile, her brash tongue… he misses the woman that would have been his wife.

He knows that Bo wants that from him, but he can’t bring himself to love her that way. Try as he might, he can’t bring himself to forget Nicole, and Bo wants something he couldn’t give her… which makes her advances harder to ignore.

He presses a claw to the mirror and traces a scrying rune into the corner. The surface ripples, and the mirror projects a view to the kitchen. An impish little demon with a mop of silver hair covering their eyes rushes in front of the view. “My Lord! We stand at the ready!”

“No, no, it’s not that serious… I was just wondering if you had some coffee ready.”

“Of course, your eminence.”

“Thank you, Babar. If you’re not busy, could one of you deliver it to me in the council chamber?”

“Oh! Y-yes, my lord! Right away!” They run from the mirror’s view. He hears them shouting from out of sight. “His Lordship knows my name!” The view ripples back into Indi’s reflection.

Getting coffee in this world was a trial all its own, let alone the miracle of it existing in the first place. If it weren’t for his position, he probably wouldn’t have this privilege. Being the demon lord isn’t all bad, he admitted. Satisfied, he shuffles out of his chambers and into the hall.

He walks his way to the conference chamber, taking his place at the great ring table opposite Bo as the Gerratum assembles. Once everyone is gathered, they sit in unison. Bo uses magic to project her voice and call the meeting to order.

The Gerratum discusses the various efforts. They bring up the fortification of the Ibagra Line, advancing the Urrun Front, encirclement plans for the stage in Zelaium, all facets of the unification war that Indi was not fond of and still only vaguely understood despite the years listening to it all.

When he is asked to chime in, he only gives very basic knowledge responses based on the one time he read Art of War, and what felt like common sense. His comments seem to irk the lesser Gerratum, esp                                         ecially when he made less aggressive suggestions.

A tongue clicks at the thought of a ceasefire, a growl escapes at the mention of an armistice. The room is full of ambitious demons looking to prove their might and make a name for themselves as conquerors. Indi has, unfortunately, grown accustomed to this.

The majority of the time, it was because the newer members of the Gerratum didn’t know who he was. He never dressed as extravagantly as the rest of the council, so they often assumed he was a servant mouthing off. Bo would tell him off for not looking the part every time it happened, but it just… feels wrong.

As the meeting carries on, he feels a tug at his robe. It’s Babar with his coffee. He smiles at Babar and ruffles their hair as he takes the coffee. Babar ran off giddily. He sips his coffee. There he is, a cozy little creature… in a room full of monsters.

…Maybe Bo had a point.

It would be understandable that some members of the Gerratum didn’t recognize him, in face or authority. He only recently succeeded the previous demon lord who’d been reigning for more than two centuries, and those who did know Indi’s face believed he would be the death of their empire.

He ponders these thoughts as the Gerratum discusses the battles to come. He tunes back in, figuring he should know what’s going on as the demon lord.

Bo scrawls runes into the table. “…And from our latest reports, it seems that a champion has risen among the human alliance. Our spies have claimed that she wields the Jaunhilpala.”

There is an uproar. Another Gerrator slams the table. “Impossible! That sword hasn’t been in human hands for two centuries!”

Bo continues scribing. “We must move forward assuming that these reports are accurate. A heroic champion has risen to challenge us. We have a scrivening capture of the hero. If you see this human, kill them on sight.”

Bo’s magic ignites on the table and projects a face, one that makes Indi spit out his coffee.

It’s her…

It’s Nicole!

She looks exactly the same as she did in the previous life, her same, perfectly wavy brown locks, her same Sun-kissed freckles, those same summer ocean eyes, it was her! It was sweet, loud, proud, wonderful Nicole!

…And Bo just told everyone here that she is kill on sight. “NO!” Indi shoots up from his seat and knocks his chair back. Everyone at the table stares at him. The room fell silent.

Indi looks around at the 30 or so demons in attendance. He had a pretty good idea what most of them thought of him; his style of rule was wildly unpopular, but demon culture demanded a certain process of objection, one that those who knew better wouldn’t attempt.

Nicole always told him he needed to be more assertive. If there was any time to do so, it would be right now to keep these monsters away from her.

He takes a steadying breath and speaks clearly. “The hero is mine, and mine alone. Do not touch her.”

One of the lesser Gerrator stands up. “And who are you to command us!?” Another of the greater Gerratrix rolls her eyes. “Oh boy, here we go…”

Indi feels inclined to agree with her. It seemed like every other council, one of the lesser Gerratum would challenge him to a duel. With councils held twice a month, and the lesser stations being a revolving door of occupancy, it felt like a matter of time before one of them did not know better. This was likely going to be the twelfth duel since Indi took the throne. He despised duels…

…but this time was different.

Indi takes a deep breath and projects his voice. “Take a moment to think, she’s wielding the Jaunhilpala. The last time it was in human hands, a single human was able to reduce the demon race’s population by half. It was such a threat that my father, Second Lord Indurago, was mortally wounded in the process of defeating the last champion. He was a corpse on the throne for the last 200 years. Is there a single one of you who claims to be stronger than the Second Lord?”

It’s painfully clear that he struck a nerve with the Gerratum. His words were toeing a dangerous line, essentially calling everyone in the room weak. Bo locks her gaze on Indi. “And are you claiming to be stronger than your father, Lord Indarauk?”

Indi shakes his head. “There isn’t a demon alive that could have matched him even in his weakened state. No… we shouldn’t fight the hero. I will deal with her personally, without fighting. I’m going to talk to her.”

All at once, the chamber erupts. This is the loudest - and angriest - a council has ever been.

A Gerrator slams the table. “You intend to grovel?! To beg for mercy?!”

Another screams out. “I would rather die in glory than live on my knees!”

This was clearly going nowhere. The concept of diplomacy seemed practically heretical to these monsters; time to be assertive.

Indi projects his voice again. “I am not asking you to do anything; I am telling you to do nothing. My first decree as Demon Lord, the Heroic Champion is off limits. She is not to be approached with intent to harm. To do so is treason. So say I, Third Lord Indarauk of the Shattered Plains.”

The room is whipped into a frenzy. Bo looks at him with horror, a question of his sanity in her eyes.

The Lesser Gerrator from before slams his claws into the table, drawing everyone’s attention. “COWARD!”

The Gerratum falls silent.

“How dare you deny us this glory!? You’re weak… WEAK!!” He points straight at Indi. “I am Garn Straid, Eighth Lesser Gerrator of the Seventh Legion! I declare you Coward!”

The eyes in the room focus on Indi again, this time waiting expectantly.

Indi sighs. This was it, number twelve. “Let’s get this over with…” He straightens his stance, takes a steadying breath, and responds as if reciting a tired line. “I am Third Lord Indarauk of the Shattered Plains. Before witness, I accept your challenge.”